


Fic: Mad Men. Owen/Ianto. PWP.

by silver_sun



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot, Rough Sex, community: kink-las
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-22
Updated: 2010-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-15 03:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_sun/pseuds/silver_sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Jack missing, a fight between Ianto and Owen leads to sex. Written for round one of kink-las</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fic: Mad Men. Owen/Ianto. PWP.

**Story Title** : Mad Men.   
**Character/Relationships** : Ianto, Owen. Ianto/Owen.   
**Rating:** nc17  
 **Warnings** : None.   
**Summary:** With Jack missing, a fight between Ianto and Owen leads to sex.   
**A/N:** PWP. This was written for round one with the prompt of rough sex. It has been tidied up a bit since its posting there. 

 

The rain is torrential as Owen and Ianto make their way back to the SUV, the tension and animosity that has been growing between them since Jack's disappearance an almost palpable present.

“Well that was a waste of time,” Owen grumbles. “If they want us to keep them safe they should tell us what happened and not piss us about."

“He was scared. They all were.” Ianto says wearily. “Scared people hide things."

“And you know all about hiding, you-”

Ianto's fist connects with Owen's jaw a moment later.

Owen staggers back with the force of the blow, his expression turning murderous.

“That's it.” Taking off his leather jacket Owen drops it on the bonnet of the SUV. “I've had it with your passive aggressive shit.”

“Punching you in the face is hardly passive,” Ianto points out mildly, carefully placing his suit jacket on the SUV next to Owen's, before starting to unbutton his waistcoat.

Grabbing the front of the waistcoat, Owen pulls hard, the buttons popping loose to be lost the darkness. “You think you're so much better than us, you think nice clothes and having had Jack's cock up you arse means you're a special case?”

“At least I don't have to drug people to sleep with me.” Ianto moves quickly, grabbing Owen's arm and twisting it behind his back before shoving him hard against the wet brickwork of the alleyway.

“I don't do that any more.” Owen slams his head back, catching Ianto on the chin. Taking advantage of Ianto's momentary surprise, Owen twists out of his grasp, kicking at his legs. Ianto doesn't release his grip, and they both fall to the floor.

Punching and kicking indiscriminately, they scuffle on the ground, oblivious to the rain and muck soaking into their clothes.

Straddling Ianto's hips Owen can feel Ianto's cock hot and hard against his thigh. Pushing his leg between Ianto's Owen grinds against him. “You want me, I fucking knew it,” Owen says triumphantly. “Jack's gone and you want a real man.”

“You have no idea what I want,” Ianto says, sounding bitter.

“I know what you need though.” Owen pulls Ianto's head back, fingers twisted in short hair, baring his neck. “And I'm going to give it to you. I'm going to fuck you until scream.”

“Unlikely, but you can try.”

“I'm going to.”

Ianto elbows him hard in the ribs. “Then do it, or are you all talk?”

Breathing hard, blood and bruises visible on their faces, they break the hold they've got on each other just long enough to scramble to their feet.

Grabbing Ianto's belt, Owen makes short work of unfastening it, before doing the same with his trousers, pushing them down around his knees.

Shoving Ianto forwards against the bonnet of the SUV, Owen pauses for a moment, then unbuttons his own jeans.

Spit and pre-come aren't the best lube, but they are better than nothing at all. Owen smiles, smug and predatory as Ianto groans, caught somewhere between pain and pleasure, while he works two spit-slick fingers into his arse, stretching him.

Gripping Ianto's hips tightly, nails digging into the skin, Owen pushes into him hard and fast.

“Bastard,” Ianto swears through gritted teeth, his hands braced white knuckled against the side of the SUV, as Owen sets a punishing pace.

“You want to come, you get yourself off,” Owen says angrily when Ianto tries to drag his hand round to his cock.

“Fine.” Gripping his cock tightly, Ianto rubs his thumb across its head, before working it with short, hard strokes,

Sweat mixes with the rain despite the chill night, and there's nothing apart from the sound of heavy breathing and the sound of flesh striking flesh.

Ianto comes with a hoarse cry, his legs shaking as Owen continues to slam into him, fucking him through his orgasm with no thought to anyone's pleasure but his own until he also comes.

Pulling out, Owen seems oblivious to Ianto's hiss of discomfort.

Crouching in a rain-washed alley amongst the detritus of life, his clothes ripped and bloodied, come-stained trousers round his ankles, Ianto starts to laugh.

“What's so funny?” Owen asks irritably, starting to pull up his soaking wet jeans.

“Life, everything,” Ianto says breathing hard, as he stands, tries to straighten his dishevelled clothing.

“You're a fucking lunatic.” Owen starts to laugh as well.

“Takes one to know one.” Ianto grabs the front of Owen's tee-shirt, and pulls him in for another bruising kiss.


End file.
